Regulus Returns

Remus

“I’m not saying we change the rules,” Sirius says, “I’m just saying the rules are stupid.”

Remus lifts an eyebrow over his hand of cards. “And what do you propose we do about that?”

“Change the rules, obviously!” Sirius exclaims without a hint of irony.

James snorts. “You’re just mad because you haven’t won a single hand yet.”

Sirius shoots James a glare, “And you’re just smug because you have all the good cards and won’t share!”

“Well, that’s not really the point of the game, Pads.” Remus counters, a smile playing across his lips.

It’s been a good day. He and Sirius were out shopping for most of it. The plan was originally to pick up some snacks and a couple new games and return to the flat within an hour or two, but once Sirius got a reminder of the outside world, he wanted to do everything. And Remus was more than happy to oblige. Record shops, consignment stores, lunch at a pub, a walk around the park, it was like Sirius was finally coming back to himself. Besides a single pint at the pub, he hadn’t had any alcohol and he looked much less crazed than he has stewing around the flat. His hair was reasonably combed, his clothes were clean, his scruffy beard was the appropriate level of scruffiness, and his eyes were the clear, piercing gray Remus had fallen in love with all those years ago. Sirius was finally coming back to himself.

When they got home that afternoon, Sirius immediately set about piling all of the games he and James owned on the kitchen table and picking out the perfect records for the night. It took a while to drag Regulus out of his room and to corral the rest of them into the kitchen, but judging by the smiles on his friends’ faces, game night is a resounding success. Well, almost.

“Reg! Tell them!” Sirius pouts, “The game would be better if I could play both cards at once. Double whammy!”

 Regulus does not answer. He doesn’t even nod his head in response. He just sits there, pale face empty of all emotion. His eyes are slowly scanning back and forth across the table, not seeming to take in anything at all.

“Don’t drag him into your nonsense!” James argues, “You’re wrong and you know it!”

Regulus has been like that all night. Sullen, aloof, and just generally Regulus-like. Nothing Remus and Marlene have researched seems to be of any use in curing him, and now that they know Regulus does physically have his voice, there’s even fewer explanations as to what’s happening. When Regulus first showed up, Remus was near-certain it was all an act, some sort of ploy to bring down the Order or at the very least to torture Sirius. He only started looking for ways to help Regulus for Sirius’s sake, but the more time that goes on, the more Remus feels bad for Regulus.

It's a strange feeling, seeing as Remus has been determined to hate Regulus after years of watching him be indifferent or downright cruel towards Sirius. Honestly, it’s a wonder Sirius is even willing to take his brother in after everything that’s happened. Remus doesn’t know what all went down in that house, but from what little Sirius has shared, Regulus was no ally. Sirius would take hit after hit, always putting himself in danger just to keep Regulus out of the way. Sirius protected Regulus, and yet every time they crossed paths in the halls of Hogwarts, Regulus would pretend Sirius didn’t exist at all.

Remus sighs, watching Sirius flip though every card in the deck trying to prove some point or another to James. James has his arms crossed and is scrutinizing the process carefully. Regulus doesn’t even seem aware of what’s going on around him. He’s holding his cards so limply in his hand that the whole table can see them.

Remus feels a twinge of pity in his chest. No one should look this haunted and broken at sixteen. No one deserves that. Maybe Regulus is a horrible, unfeeling jerk, but he’s also just a kid, a kid who grew up in a horrible place with horrible people. It’s not surprising he grew into the cold bastard he did. The real wonder is how Sirius didn’t.

“Okay, fine. You didn’t steal any cards.” James concedes. “But you definitely messed with the order!”

“Did not!” Sirius says in mock-offense. “I would do no such thing!”

James raises an eyebrow.

Sirius grins huge, “Okay, I didn’t mess with the order, but I did switch a few of my cards when you weren’t looking.”

“I knew it!” James gasps, pointing a finger accusingly at Sirius.

Remus, sensing that this row is on a slippery slope to becoming a full out brawl, decides he’d better intervene.

Sometimes, Remus swears he’s the only responsible one in this group.

Regulus

Game night is a terribly cheesy, cliché idea that only works for functioning families on TV. And, apparently, for Sirius and his friends.

Regulus hates it. He hates them. He hates how they laugh and joke and push each other around. He hates how they yell at each other without being mad and argue without insulting. He hates how they make up so easily and talk so freely. He hates how happy they all are.

He hates that they get to be happy, and he doesn’t.

“Arghh!” Sirius yelps, dropping the tweezers as the Operation game buzzes and jolts.

“What kind of bloody witchcraft was that?” he says, looking skeptically at the game board.

Remus chuckles, “It’s not magic, you numpty, it’s batteries.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s wrong. I was perfectly steady! Cavity Sam was in great hands! I’d be a great surgeon!”

James grins. “Remember that time you got a splinter in your finger and tried to cut it out with a penknife?” James taunts, snatching the tweezers from Sirius. “You bled so much we had to take you to Madame Pomfrey’s!”

Sirius pouts “I was twelve! And I got rid of the splinter, didn’t I?”

“And nearly got rid of your fingerprints.” Remus teases.

Sirius’s pout melts into a smile, “And imagine the prank possibilities if I had!”

Regulus presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It’s been like his all night, little spats breaking out that are quickly resolved, moved past, or joked over. Regulus keeps expecting it to turn into all-out shouting matches with people throwing things or cursing each other or making terrible threats, but it never does. They just move on. It doesn’t make any sense.

James takes his turn, carefully extracting the fake man’s wishbone. He’s almost got it clear of the board, too, when Sirius suddenly sneezes. James jumps in surprise and the board lights up again.

“Sirius!” he yells.

Sirius shrugs innocently, “Sorry Prongs, had to sneeze.” James glares at him but passes the tweezers along.

“Here Regulus, your turn.”

It takes Regulus a moment to realize Potter’s talking to him. It takes another moment to make his hand grab the tweezers. He holds the warm instrument in his hands and stares at the board. There’s no way he’s participating in this humiliating game. Just sitting at this table and watching those three fools gad about is torture enough.

Seeing that Regulus isn’t going to move, Sirius pulls a card from the deck for him. “Bread Basket!” he reads. “You’ve got to pull out the Bread Basket.”

Regulus stares at the board. Suddenly, he feels a tightening in his chest. He can’t play this game. Everyone’s eyes will be on him, watching as he carefully maneuvers the tweezers. And what if he bumps the edge and the buzzer goes off? It’d make noise and cause a fuss. It would draw attention to him. He’d rather meld into the chair he’s sitting on and disappear completely than have that happen.

“Here, the Bread Basket is this one.” Remus points to a spot on the man’s stomach, as if assuming Regulus can’t read.

Regulus wants to reach the tweezers out and pull on the game piece. It looks so easy when everyone else does it. Just extend the arm, pinch the piece, pull upwards. It’s just a game. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not hard. So why is his mind racing so fast? Why won’t his limbs move?

It’s the same problem Regulus has been having with every game all night. He wants to play. He wants to have fun. He wants to be here with everyone else. But he isn’t. Childish antics fit in these boys like skinny jeans on Mick Jagger, but they don’t fit Regulus. Regulus Black doesn’t have fun. He doesn’t smile, he sneers. He doesn’t laugh, he snickers. He doesn’t joke, he taunts. He can’t do this. He can’t be like them.

Everyone is staring at him, waiting. Remus with his stupid patient, pity face, Sirius with his eager puppy look, James with a curious expression. They’re all waiting. Watching.

Regulus wills his arm to move. If he just moves, they’ll all stop staring at him. If he moves, it’ll be over.

“Give it a go, Regulus.” Sirius prods.

Regulus stares hard at the board, willing it to not buzz, begging it even. The only thing ten-times worse than extracting a Bread Basket from a fake man’s stomach with a pair of tweezers would be failing at extracting a Bread Basket from a fake man’s stomach with a pair of tweezers. He’d probably jump and everyone would laugh. They’d see how useless he really is.

“It’s just a game.” Potter adds in that dumb way he has of always knowing what Regulus is thinking. “No pressure, Remus is the only one who’s had any luck yet.”

“Cursed muggle knowledge.” Sirius grumps playfully.

Regulus glares at Potter and then slowly reaches his arm out. He’s not going to be bested by some stupid game. Ever so carefully, Regulus gently pinches the piece between the tweezers, shifting it slightly to get a better grip. Regulus can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He tries to block it out, to keep it from distracting him.

Holding his breath, Regulus starts to lift the piece ever so slowly, keeping his grip on the tweezers firm, but not hard, cradling the tweezers like a pencil between his forefinger and thumb. He pulls it from its socket, heart jolting as he nearly fumbles at the last second, but he readjusts his grasp and pulls the piece away from the board. Whew.

Remus, Sirius, and James burst out in cheers.

“That’s my Reg!” Sirius exclaims, pumping a fist. “That’s an artist’s hand right there!”

Remus smiles and rolls his eyes lovingly.

James whoops and slaps Regulus on the back.

Regulus flinches hard at the incoming hand, jerking sideways and tensing up before realizing there’s no threat.

Regulus glances around the table to see if anyone noticed. Luckily, everyone is too busy celebrating.

“Looks like I’ve got some competition!” Remus compliments as he takes the tweezers from Regulus.

Turn over, Regulus stops paying attention to the game. He’s thinking about James’s hand on his back. The thumping feeling it sent through his whole chest with the impact. It wasn’t an angry hit, but a friendly one. An acknowledgement. A sign of support.

It’s sickening. This whole group is sickening with the way they interact. How they talk and play and have no sense of decorum or manners. How they just exist with each other without expectation.

Despicable.

Disgraceful.

Remus angles the tweezers into the Funny Bone slot. James and Sirius are cheering him on, partially trying to encourage Remus, partially trying to mess him up.

Happy. Happy. They’re all so disgustingly happy.

Regulus slides his chair back and leaves the room. He’s had enough of their stupid games.

He retreats back to his room and lays down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He half expects Sirius to follow him in, but a moment passes and Sirius doesn’t come.

Good. Regulus doesn’t want Sirius to come. Regulus wants to be alone so he can sort out his thoughts.

There is a loud outburst of cheer as whoever was taking their turn does so successfully, and then the muffled sound of conversation as the game continues.

It’s like they didn’t notice Regulus left at all. And why would they? It’s not like they need him. It’s not like he’s a part of their stupid, happy family.

Up until this last week, Regulus didn’t know that this kind of friendship even existed. He thought all that goopy, sappy love stuff was made up for fairytales and story books. In the real world, people don’t really know and trust each other like that. They don’t care about each other’s feelings for no reason. They don’t stand by your side no matter what. That would be ridiculous, naïve.

Yet, in the past few days, Regulus has caught a glimpse of something so much more warmer than the type of love he’d come to believe in. Here are three people who know each other inside and out and like each other anyway. They know each other’s biggest secrets and greatest shames and still stand by each other. As stupid and imperfect and ridiculous as they are, they choose to be together. They stay. And that’s what Regulus wants. He wants someone to stay.

He hugs a pillow to his chest, rolling away from the door as tears prick his eyes.

Watching Sirius and his new family might be more painful than the cruciatus curse. He’s happy. He loves them. It’s so clear. Regulus didn’t know that things could really get that good, that life could look so happy, so unconcerned, so safe.

Regulus thought everyone was as sad and lonely as he is. He thought that’s just what life is, miserable and then over. Everyone hates themselves, and their families, and their lives. That’s just how it is.

Except that it’s not. Some people get better. Some people grow up with families who actually like each other, actually want each other. They have friends and trust and goddamn bloody game nights! Other people get these things, other people. Not Regulus. No one likes Regulus. No one wants Regulus. No one will ever stay for Regulus.

He curls himself tight around the pillow.

It doesn’t matter. It never mattered. Regulus doesn’t need someone to stay. He doesn’t need someone to love him. Regulus has Regulus. That’s all he’s ever had, that’s all he’ll ever have.

Regulus has Regulus. Stupid, useless, pathetic Regulus.